Sing Me to Sleep
by ZePuKa
Summary: In which Marinette nurses a concussed Chat back to health. Unabashed MariChat fluff. "Marinette observed him briefly as he reclined on the couch; he just looked so peaceful, like he was right at home and this was the most natural place in the world for him to be. 'I wonder how mom and dad would feel about taking in a stray cat…'"


**Opening Remarks:**

I did it. I made MariChat fluff. Hello, dark side of the fandom. I once didn't understand the appeal of MariChat, since that was the one side of the love square where neither noticed the other romantically, but _I get it now_. I still reserve the belief that it can only happen in certain circumstances, but I had the idea for this one-shot that just fit perfectly with the MariChat pairing. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy this piece of what's intended to be sickeningly sweet fluff.

* * *

 **Sing Me to Sleep**

Pinks and yellows, frills and lace, sparkles and glitter – these were the things cherished most by the merry toddler as she twirled about the room in her favorite dress-up tutu. Today she was Princess Belle, beloved by all her plush animal subjects in the kingdom of her living room. An elaborate spread lay in front of her as she danced, so she was careful to avoid the delicate plastic teacups and the croissant _Maman_ and given her for her afternoon snack. Her world of make-believe was full of sunshine and rainbows, despite the grey and wet atmosphere that hung around her 'castle'.

Rain began to patter against the windows, but she fancied it to be the sound of the court minstrel striking up a jolly jig for the beloved princess to dance to. As her pace quickened, she became lost in her performance, her adoring subjects cheering for their beautiful leader to dance faster and faster. It was in her fervor that she forgot to carefully check each step before she made it, so when a flash of bright light shone in her peripheral, her distraction cost her an unfortunate misstep and she found herself tumbling headfirst into her tea party. The clap of thunder that followed rattled her nerves even farther, and soon the shock of her fall gave way to the realization that she was in pain, and scary loud monsters were coming to storm the castle.

"Marinette! What's the matter?" her most loyal knight hastened to her side, leaving his post in the kitchen, where he had been working on preparing that night's royal feast.  
Through sniffles and sobs, the child fell into _"Her royal knight, Sir Papa!"_ 's consoling embrace and first chastised him for getting her title wrong – again. "I'm not Marinette; I'm the princess!"  
With a soft chuckle, Papa argued, "Every daughter is a princess, so even if I don't always call you my princess, you always will be, _ma petite_ Marinette." Rubbing her nose affectionately with his own until she giggled, he then repeated, "Now tell me, _Princess_ Marinette, what seems to be the trouble?"

Another peel of thunder rumbled, this time much closer than the last, such that it felt like the house shook ever so slightly. The girl shivered and huddled further into her Papa's arms, whimpering and effectively answering his question without the need for words.

"I see. The trolls in the neighboring kingdom are also heading to bed for their nap, just like you should be doing…" He reasoned, prompting the tiny pig-tailed head to snap up and meet his gaze.  
"But I don't wanna nap!" she whined.  
"Silly Mari, every princess needs her beauty sleep!"  
"But it's much too loud and scary to sleep!" She protested, eyes tearing up and threatening to spill.  
"Worry not, the trolls will soon be in their beds as well."  
"No they won't! They're coming to attack the palace!"  
" _Non,_ princess, they're only excited to return home to their beloved to spend some tranquil time in slumber together. But just like you, my dear Marinette, when they get excited, they tend to run into things and make a lot of noise."

Biting her lip as she wrestled with whether or not to believe him, she gave a startled cry when another loud bang echoed through the house. "But I'm never THAT loud!"  
"Of course not, for you are a delicate and dainty princess," Papa explained, standing to his feet as he situated her in his arms to be carried, "and they are great big – but friendly – trolls!"

Carrying her to her room, Papa laid his precious daughter in her padded bed, situating her favorite stuffed animals around her.  
Still protesting, Marinette urged, " _Maman_ always sings me a lullaby before putting me to sleep, so I _can't_ take my nap yet!"  
"Your _Maman_ is busy with a big order for a customer, so you'll have to settle for your Papa singing to you." He insisted, tucking her fluffy pink and yellow Princess Belle blanket around her as he mused how particular she was about her sleeping routines. She always needed her Princess Belle blankie, her favorite dog, cat, and hamster stuffed animals, and a song, which his wife usually sang. He was a little scant in his lullaby repertoire, so he thought of the first bedtime song he could recall – one his mother used to sing to prompt him to ready himself for bed - and sang in a gruff but cheery voice:

 _Tout suite! Tout suite!_  
 _Put on your pajamas; I mean it! Vite! Vite!_  
 _Tout suite! Tout suite!_  
 _Goodnight now, my darling, my sweet._

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Marinette chided, "That doesn't sound like a lullaby at all! It's much too fast and short!"  
"I know, Mari," he admitted with a hearty laugh, "But it's my favorite my own _Maman_ used to sing to me. Besides, you look plenty sleepy to me."  
"No…" Marinette protested, but was interrupted by her own yawn, "I'm not sleepy at all…"  
"No of course not." Papa hummed as he stroked her raven-black hair, eliciting a happy sigh from the girl as her eyelids drooped, heavy with impending slumber.

When her movements stilled and her breathing steadied, Tom withdrew his hand to let his daughter sleep in peace. Pressing a parting kiss to her relaxed forehead, he whispered, "Goodnight, Princess."

* * *

Marinette always knew she had understanding and kind parents, but she was reminded anew when sudden and dire circumstances landed on their doorstep.

It had been a long and grueling battle, facing the latest akuma victim on this, a dark and stormy, night. It hadn't helped that the enemy led them on a rooftop chase. See, the tricky thing about rooftops is that they're designed to allow water to glide down them so they can be collected in gutters and diverted to the proper drainage system. This made for especially slick and uncertain footing, and the superhero duo had been forced to slow their movements to assure their own safety as they tried to capture and apprehend the villain.

When they finally managed to do so, Ladybug heaved a premature sigh of relief, and Chat Noir had similarly let his guard down, thinking the danger had passed. As they turned to part ways, Chat turned a little too quickly, the slickness of the water-slogged roof capturing his foot in its frictionless current and sending him on a downward journey.

In the heavy downpour, Ladybug didn't see the danger until it was too late – there simply wasn't enough time to stop his fall and he hit the ground with a sickening crack. "Chat!" she cried in alarm, having to use every ounce of her willpower to slow herself so that she did not face the same fate as she made her way to his eerily still form.

Silently thanking her lucky stars she'd paid attention during the first aid chapter in health class, Ladybug delicately inspected his body for any injuries that would prevent her from moving him safely, then carefully lifted his head and checked for trauma. She vaguely noticed that her transformation lifted, her time after using her lucky charm power expiring. Exhaling in relief, she addressed her kwami, "He doesn't appear to be fatally hurt. He had enough sense to maneuver his body during the fall to protect his head as much as possible, though he was knocked unconscious."

"But what are we going to do with him?" Tikki asked worriedly, "He didn't use his cataclysm power during the battle and he needs to be conscious to release the transformation himself!"  
"Hmm…" Marinette pondered, shedding her jacket and holding it over her partner's head to protect his face from the downpour that was beginning to build in intensity, "We can't take him to a hospital; he might wake up delirious and release his transformation in front of a bunch of people. But we can't leave him here either."

Retrieving her phone from her purse in one hand while using the other to continue holding her jacket in place, Marinette called her dad, praying he'd pick up quickly. "Hey, Papa! …Yes, I'm okay; sorry I suddenly disappeared on you in this weather! I uh, had realized that I left one of my textbooks at Alya's place and really needed it to do my homework and got a case of tunnel vision – it didn't even cross my mind to let you guys know where I went. But listen, you can scold me later, this is important! On my way home, I found Chat Noir passed out in the street. I think he's hurt and I didn't think it would be wise to call an ambulance – who knows who his enemies may be? Do you think maybe, possibly… he could rest at our house?"

* * *

That's how things ended up in this strange state – with an unconscious black cat asleep on her living room couch. Marinette entered the room to relieve her father of his shift, as they had all agreed it would be best to make sure someone was with him at all times to monitor his condition for any signs of it worsening. The hour was now late, past midnight, and the rain continued to pour in torrents, battering the windows relentlessly as the wind howled.

Yawning, Tom patted Marinette on the shoulder in thanks before departing, eager to join his wife in blissful slumber. Marinette had gotten a fitful few hours of sleep after a warm shower and dinner, but had kept waking up in worry for her partner. She recalled how her parents had reported that he'd slipped in and out of consciousness, but seemed to be in a daze and unaware of his surroundings. She'd tried not to blush when they informed her that while she had been showering, they'd tried to figure out how to get him out of the suit and into dry clothes, but when they failed, they had settled for trying to get the gist of the moisture off of him with towels and her hairdryer. She'd opted to let her hair air-dry in favor of continuing the efforts to warm the cold and damp hero. As such, her hair was now in an indeterminate array of gravity-defying plaits since she'd slept on it wet.

Now certain that her father was out of earshot, Marinette ventured closer to her slumbering partner to start her watch and Tikki left her pajama pocket to hover overhead. "Is there any way for Ladybug's powers to help heal him?" Marinette asked, worry furrowing her brow.  
Shaking her head sadly, Tikki explained, "Unfortunately, Ladybug's powers can only reverse damage done in relation to an akuma attack, and Chat was injured after the akuma was already dealt with."

With a sigh, Marinette kneeled next to the couch, reaching a hand out and resting it on his forehead. "At least he doesn't seem to be developing a fever from exposure to the elements." A sudden curiosity overtook her, seeing him in such an unguarded state, and before she registered what she was doing, her hand had made its way from his forehead to his now-dry mop of flaxen hair. Absently running a finger and thumb across a lock of it, she mused, "Silly _chaton_ , I'm supposed to be the clumsy one…"

A low groan frightened Marinette into withdrawing her hand, leaning back as far as her posture would allow and holding her breath, worried that Chat had heard her use his pet – that is, _Ladybug's_ pet name for him; since right now she wasn't Ladybug.

As if reading her thoughts, Chat moaned, "Lady…bug?", eyes fluttering open.  
"Uhhhhh…" Marinette squeaked, high-pitched and long, her brain short circuiting in panic.

His eyes blinked a few more times, like he was trying to orient himself. His eyes pinched shut with a wince as his hand reached for a sore spot on his head. "What.. what happened?" He managed to ask in a pained whisper.

"-hhhhhhhhh…" Marinette continued to squeak as her face reddened, her brain over-exerting itself to no avail. A gentle pinch from her pajama-pant pocket, where she assumed her kwami had once again taken shelter, gave her brain the necessary reset and she stammered, "Er, you. Fell! Hit head."  
Another pinch served to recalibrate her stuttering speech and she was able to finish her explanation more fluently, "L-Ladybug saw me passing by and asked if I could, uh, t-take care of you."

"Oh." Chat stated simply, and an awkward silence descended heavily on the pair, neither moving, but both aware of how uncomfortably close the other was in a compromising situation – Chat in his wounded state, and Marinette in her bed-headed and pajama-clad state, which Chat seemed to be observing now that his head had begun to clear.

Marinette felt her cheeks begin to tinge as the realization dawned on her that she wasn't wearing a bra, and she instinctively turned away, hoping against hope that Chat hadn't noticed. "I'll uh, go get you some headache medicine; you must be in a lot of pain!" the flustered girl exclaimed, happy that she had found an excuse to leave the room and covertly repair her wardrobe malfunction.

* * *

He'd noticed. _Oh dear lawdy,_ he'd noticed. Chat had never been so happy for his mask as he was right now, for it helped hide the sudden heat he felt in his face that he unfortunately could not blame on a fever. Though maybe there was hope yet, for his thoughts certainly felt clouded enough to indicate the possibility of one.

He rubbed his temples as he tried to make sense of his scattered thoughts and memories. He remembered battling an akuma with Ladybug, the rain… the fall… but after that it was all foggy. He couldn't explain it coherently, but at times he felt like he was enveloped in warmth, care, and safety… So he was fully aware that wherever he was, it wasn't home. Home was a cold, desolate, and lonely place. He'd been so sure that he'd heard Ladybug at times though, but now that he'd fully come to, he had been surprised to see Marinette instead… with a tender and worried expression on her sweet face, her body poised beside his resting place, clad in cute, floral-print pajamas and – Lord have mercy, his mind was already back to _that._

Squirming uncomfortably, he tried to sit up in an effort to give his mind something else to think about, but was surprised to hear a hissed rebuke, "Chat! You lay right back down! You're going to make your head injury worse!"

Whipping his head around to face the speaker – _'Bad decision… that hurt. And now I'm dizzy...'_ – he found Marinette standing there with a bottle of pills in hand, and before he could stop his eyes from wandering, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief when they found that _that_ particular distraction had been remedied.

He happily complied with her command, as it served many purposes – first and foremost to hide his heated face from view, but also to stop the dizzy spell he'd brought upon himself. With a groan, he asked, "Don't suppose you have any medicine that can stop the room from spinning?" He closed his eyes in the hopes that cutting off the sensory input would still the whirling feeling he'd induced. When she answered in the negative, he resigned himself to concentrating on letting the feeling pass, choosing to instead focus on the pain as means of distraction.

"Are you hungry?" The pajama-clad teen asked innocently – from about half a foot away. When had she gotten all the way over here!?

Eyes snapping open, he verified that her concerned face was close – dangerously close – to his own, eyes innocently imploring as she held out a couple pills and a glass of water. He wordlessly accepted them as he propped himself up to drink, administering the pills and effectively stalling his answer until his heart stilled from the surprise of her sudden proximity.

He was also flustered that he couldn't figure out why she was having such an effect on him – a very Ladybug-esque effect on him. Was it because she'd called him ' _Chaton_ '? It certainly didn't help that she had the same color eyes and hair as his lady. Even so, he couldn't allow his heart to have such a reaction over every girl in Paris with black hair and blue eyes. Starting now, he'd be training it to be firm in his resolve to not be moved by any girl besides Ladybug… No matter how his hormones raged over such things that normally made teenage boys' hormones rage… such _things_ that hid behind cute floral pajama tops…

Sputtering on his water, Chat coughed as some of it went down the wrong way in response to his violent attempt to stop his mind from wandering to forbidden places.

"You alright?" Marinette asked, concern etching across her naïve face, making him feel all the more guilty. It didn't help that she'd leaned forward to aid him and had begun to pat his back in what he was certain she thought was a helpful gesture – but it was anything but.  
He tensed instinctively and stuttered, "H-how about that food? Now that I'm more awake, I've realized that I'm _paw_ sitively famished."

She giggled. _'Be still my heart.'_ The bewildered hero told himself. This girl certainly wasn't helping this confusing situation by continuing to be so dang cute. No one ever really laughed at his jokes; he made them solely because _he_ got enjoyment out of them; he never expected anyone else to find humor in them. Now with just a single sound, this infuriating girl was unraveling his guard, beckoning him towards a place that felt safe and warm.

* * *

Marinette couldn't help herself – she'd been so worried for her partner after that nasty tumble, but with a single pun he'd dispelled her concerns, reminding her that he was still the same old Chat and a little fall wasn't going to change that. In her relief, she couldn't stop the mirth from bubbling up and coming forth as a giggle. She then hurriedly promised that she'd be right back and went to the kitchen just a few feet over to see what they had available in the fridge.

Not wanting to disturb her sleeping parents with the sound of their microwave – for the darned contraption had been on its last legs for quite awhile, the turntable groaning in obnoxiously loud protests whenever it was used – Marinette decided on whipping up something quick on the stove instead. "Hey, are scrambled eggs okay? How about some toast?" she called from the kitchen, taking care to be both loud enough to be heard from the couch and yet quiet enough to not be heard from her parent's bedroom down the hall.  
"I'm fine with anything." Came Chat's sing-song response.

She observed him briefly as he reclined on the couch, eyes closed with a look of self-satisfied contentment on his features. She was tempted to snap at him and tell him not to get _too_ comfortable – she wasn't going to wait on him hand and foot indefinitely – his cockiness definitely didn't need any bolstering. But he just looked so peaceful, like he was right at home and this was the most natural place in the world for him to be. _'I wonder how mom and dad would feel about taking in a stray cat…?'_

Shaking her head to rid it of its sudden nonsense, she busied herself preparing the food as quickly yet quietly as she could. When she'd plated the humble feast, she placed it on a tray and traipsed back to the couch, taking care to tread lightly and not trip on the way over – goodness knows she'd failed similar journeys many times before and she was determined not to embarrass herself in front of Chat.

"Need help with that, Princess?" Chat asked, breaking Marinette's concentration as she started in fright at his unexpected proximity. All her hard work went to waste as the sudden jerk caused her to trip over her own feet and, physics be darned, the food achieved liftoff.

* * *

The result was two very stunned teenagers staring at each other, one having braced the other to break her fall, but landing himself right in the trajectory of the airborne edibles in the end. They stood still as statues, regarding one another with wide eyes as the facts of the situation sunk in. Marinette was in Chat's arms, the tray sandwiched between their otherwise adjacent bodies, with Chat supporting the gist of their combined weight. He was quite thankful that he was braced against the couch himself - he wasn't sure he'd have had the strength to support them both without that to _back_ him up, given he still felt dizzy... Though he was beginning to think the cause, at least in part, was hormonal rather than injury-induced.

 _'Thank goodness there's at least a tray there…'_ Chat sighed to himself; the memory of how unguarded that area was when he first woke up was still fresh in his mind. He still felt rattled, however, suddenly having a rather cute girl in his arms, one who had so kindly taken him in and tended to his wounds, and had even prepared a meal for him – though he had an inkling he wouldn't be eating that meal after all. He felt the tension continue to build as neither of them made a move to pull apart, each searching the other's eyes for answers to what it was exactly that was happening between them.

Marinette was the one to finally break the spell, a laugh escaping her throat - a sound that Chat was coming to cherish the more he heard it – and she pointed at his hair as she pushed herself back onto her own feet and dissolved into more laughter.

Hands now free of their burden, he reached up and fingered his tresses, gulping as they came in contact with a substance he assumed to be the scrambled eggs. The model in him cringed as he thought of how much hassle it was going to be to get his head feeling clean again after this mishap, but it was hard to be upset when the girl in front of him laughed as her eyes sparkled with genuine cheer; in fact, it was infectious. He found himself joining her giggles until the two nearly collapsed from the fit.

"Y-you should lie back down." Marinette instructed in-between laughter and hiccups.

Her laughter-induced hiccups only served to make Chat laugh that much harder, unable to get over how cute they sounded.

"C-come on! L-lie d-down and I'll g-get the eg-gs out of you-your hair!"

"Th-that would be m-most _egg_ cellent, P-princess" Chat mocked, faking hiccups of his own, though he couldn't replicate the same adorable quality hers had.

Swatting him playfully, Marinette whined, "S-Stop! You know I c-can't he-help it!"

With one last amused chortle, Chat did as he was told and lied on his stomach, allowing better access to his egg-doused hair.

* * *

The work was tedious at first, and only made more difficult by the fact that whenever she hiccuped, Chat would chuckle, the action vibrating his torso and head, which made it impossible for her to aim as she plucked at the bits of egg in his hair. Eventually, the hiccups began to abate, and Chat settled into a silent and still state.

Despite his cooperation, it was still proving to be a time-consuming task to extract all the scrambled matter from his golden head. The two had settled into a comfortable sort of silence, both content to revel in the sound of rain gently pitter-pattering against the windows and the stillness of the other's presence. Marinette couldn't help but marvel at how normal this all felt, despite that this was a highly unusual circumstance. If yesterday someone had told her that she'd have Chat Noir in her living room, both of them acting like it was the most natural place for him to be, she would've laughed in their face. Something in her stirred at this new side of Chat she'd discovered. He was usually such an energetic and assertive presence, she hadn't thought him capable of this quiet and peaceful – wait, was he purring?

She paused her task and leaned her ear in close to his relaxed face, determining that all she'd heard was the sound of his breathing, husky and heavy, like one tends to do when drifting off to sleep.

She jumped when he abruptly whispered in her ear, for she'd thought him to have already dozed off, but he didn't open his eyes and only implored her, voice low and yearning, to not stop working on his hair.

Smirking, she chided, "You shouldn't worry about that and instead just get some more sleep. It's the best thing for healing head trauma."  
"Gladly, Princess, if you keep massaging my head." He protested to further emphasize his plea, for she still hadn't returned her fingers to his hair.

His emitted protest was a soft and low, needy sort of growl which made the hairs on the back of Marinette's neck tingle, though she wasn't sure why. She teasingly raked her fingers through his hair once before withdrawing them, remarking, "Looks like I got it all; no choice but to go to sleep without that."

Groaning at the abrupt loss of her touch, but too tired to do much about it, Chat grumbled, "But I'm injured… surely that warrants special favors now and then?"  
Marinette hummed as if contemplating his point, then countered, "I'm sure that you'll become your old self in time, with or without favors."  
"Technically, that's true of everyone, no matter what their situation."  
"Hah. Hah. You know what I meant, Chat."

When he gave up with a whimper and a huff, Marinette took pity on him, deciding to offer him a compromise. "I could… sing you to sleep…" She offered in barely above a whisper, suddenly shy and apprehensive. She wasn't sure why the offer made her feel so vulnerable or why she was paranoid that he'd laugh at the idea – heck, this whole night had been weird enough, so why was this simple six-word sentence putting her on the edge of her seat?

"Really?" Chat asked, perking up, "You'd do that for me?"

Unable to discern his facial expression, but understanding it to be sincere, she nodded.

* * *

He'd died and gone to heaven; he was sure of it. Only that could explain what he'd been feeling all night. All the confusion he'd had to this point cleared when she affirmed that she'd sing him to sleep. That warmth and comfort he'd been feeling, even earlier when he had brief, hazy moments of consciousness, til now, being doted on by Marinette… This content complacency… it was the feeling of being home – _truly_ home. Being sung to sleep... it was something that, 'til now, he'd assumed only happened in fairytales and movies. Now he realized that it could actually happen in real life. Not only that, but these strange phenomena he'd been experiencing: someone who cared for him preparing a meal for him with their own hands, administering medicine and rubbing his back when he choked on it, wrapping him in blankets when he was hazy and feverish, genuine concern on their faces the whole time... It seemed the Dupain-Cheng household was a true _family home_ and its inhabitants made sure that anyone who stepped foot there felt like part of the family, and now that he'd experienced it for himself, he was overwhelmed.

All the longing he'd had in his life for this type of feeling – he'd long ago gave up searching for it, thinking it to be a myth – was fulfilled in a single glimpse of the real artifact. It filled his heart with hope that it was possible to obtain, and now he was more determined than ever to grasp it one day – to break away from the poison of his father's family model and to one day provide his own family with this elixir of belonging.

When Marinette began singing, her sweet voice filling the silence, his mind entertained his newfound reachable dream, the simple lyrics soothing his once-despairing soul as he pictured a brighter future.

 _Tout suite! Tout suite!_  
 _Put on your pajamas; I mean it! Vite! Vite!_  
 _Tout suite! Tout suite!_  
 _Goodnight now, my darling, my sweet._

The lyrics were silly, perfect for a child who was rebelling against their bedtime, but laced with the depth of love the singer had for the ones hearing it, and Chat found himself picturing just that – happy little ones scampering about as a sweet, feminine voice sang to them to don their nightclothes and hop into bed.

He felt his consciousness slipping as his mind drifted further into his happy dream world, and he only barely perceived Marinette's voice fading as she whispered, "Sleep tight, _Chaton._ "

"Goodnight, my Princess."

* * *

"Hush, my little one." Adrien cooed, cradling the infant fondly in his arms. The tiny pink bundle refused to be pacified, however, continuing to cry and mercilessly assault his eardrums.

"It's okay, darling, Papa's got you…" He continued to soothe, rubbing his hand in circles over the baby's abdomen like the doctor had shown. The poor thing was prone to colic and it pained him to see her in such distress. The exercise had helped to ease the child's gas in the past, but tonight the colic had started earlier than usual and he was beginning to worry it'd be a rough night.

Continuing to gently massage her tummy, Adrien looked into his daughter's beautiful sapphire eyes – just like her mother's – and addressed her, "How would you like it if Papa sang you to sleep, hm? Would you like that, Emma?"

When the babe paused her crying for just a moment, he took that as a 'Yes' and with an adoring smile, he hummed the familiar tune over and over until she began to relax. As her cries became less frequent, he decided to add the lyrics to the song now that she might actually be able to hear them. With a soft and soothing baritone, he sang out:

 _Tout suite! Tout suite!_  
 _Put on your pajamas; I mean it! Vite! Vite!_  
 _Tout suite! Tout suite!_  
 _Goodnight now, my darling, my sweet._

He relished in the moment of stillness that followed, his precious bundle of joy now asleep in his arms. Knowing that she'd ultimately be more comfortable in her crib, he reluctantly lowered her into it, and pressing a tender kiss to her temple, he bade her goodnight with a final whisper of, "Goodnight, my princess…"

* * *

Marinette had been stumbling towards her bedroom, having finished the dishes while Adrien put Emma to sleep, more than ready for the softness of her pillow and some much-needed shut eye. However, when she was passing the nursery, she heard Adrien singing her family's favorite lullaby, and couldn't stop herself from eavesdropping.

The sight brought joyful tears to her eyes; Adrien looked like he was over the moon in love with their daughter and thoroughly enjoying his father-daughter time, tired though he no doubt was. Neither of them had gotten much sleep in the past couple of months, but that didn't serve to dampen their joy in their new family in the least. Adrien had been looking forward to having children probably more than she had. For even though she had always wanted kids as well, once she understood the type of family background he came from, and saw how he interacted with Emma now, she finally understood the depth of his longing. He'd no doubt quickly make a "Daddy's girl" out of Emma, and there was no way she could fault him for that; not when his eyes shone with such pride and affection.

"Goodnight, my princess." She heard him whisper as he leaned into the crib to kiss Emma goodbye for the night, and the words triggered a slew of memories. She recalled how many times she heard that from her own father when she was young, and then how often she got to hear it from Adrien in her adulthood.

Greeting Adrien with a pout as he joined her in the hallway, she complained in a low whisper, "But I thought _I_ was your princess…"  
Sweeping her into a fervent kiss, Adrien took his time before responding, "Mmm yes, but every daughter is a princess, and I personally prefer to call you _my lady…_ " Finishing with a gruff purr, he pressed his lips to hers once more, this time hungrier than the last.

Giggling through his kisses, Marinette playfully pushed him back by the nose and admonished him, "Shhhh, we'll wake Emma… and I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep tonight since you managed to get her to sleep early."  
"Well… actually… dear wife…" her husband replied, interspersing his responses with kisses in various places, "I had other… _things_ … in mind."  
Gasping as he hit a sensitive spot, Marinette protested, "But we haven't had a proper night's sleep in – _ah_ – months!"  
" _Mmmm_ , but it's been just as long since we've pro _purr_ ly _slept_ tooooo-" he rebutted, purposely drawing out and leaving the last word unfinished so Marinette would notice his slightly suggestive play on words.

Marinette regarded him, biting her lip as she tried, in vain, to resist that kitty-cat pout and – _'Oh gosh, here it comes...'_ \- that flirtatious, boyish smile, topped with a coy cock of the eyebrows. She opened her mouth, ready to cave, but he captured it with his own before she could speak, breaking only when air had become absolutely necessary.

Breathlessly, he added another point to his argument, "Besides, don't you think little Emma needs a playmate?"  
"Hnn, I'm sure if we talked to Nino and Alya about that, they'd be happy to oblige…" she teased with a chortle, pretending she still wasn't convinced.  
"Aw, come on; you're really letting the wind out of my sails here…" he pleaded pathetically, practically reduced to begging.  
Pouting for good measure, Marinette took a step away from him in mock disappointment, "Oh am I? You started it, making me all jealous by singing Emma to sleep… You never sing _me_ to sleep anymore…"  
"Why should I do that when I can _make you sing_?" He questioned, taking a step to close the gap and whispering seductively in her ear.

Just when she was about to give up, unable to resist his advances any longer, a cry echoed through the hall, alerting the couple that the babe had awoken.

Both heaving a deep sigh, Marinette told Adrien to get ready for bed and she'd see him soon, after she took her turn putting Emma to bed.  
"You'll do no such thing, Princess." Adrien stated, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, "You've worked hard enough today and you need your beauty sleep. _I'll_ put Emma to sleep so you can get to bed."  
"No, that's okay, it's my turn anyway."  
"No, my lady, I _insist_. Besides, I'd love a little more time with Emma. You go on and go to sleep."

With an appreciative smile, Marinette nodded, grateful that Adrien was putting her needs ahead of his own. She watched as he re-entered the room and reached into the crib to soothe their daughter's pained stomach ever so gently with a contented smile on his face.

An idea crossing her mind, Marinette turned back and poked her head into the nursery, saying, "Adrien… After you're done with Emma, I'll let you sing me to sleep _any which way you want_." Finishing with a wink, she giggled as a bashful blush spread across his adorably shell-shocked face, then she turned heel and ran off to prepare.

* * *

 **Closing Remarks:**

I chose Belle as Marinette's Disney princess, both because the remake just came out and it's wonderful, and also because Belle is a French princess, and thus I thought it plausible that it would be a popular choice for girls growing up in France. This is why I went with the pink and yellow scheme, instead of Marinette's signature pink and black. I thought yellow and pink would be good youthful colors for her, and as she matured, the yellow was gradually replaced with black, or maybe even suddenly when she started going to school with a certain obnoxious girl who'd claimed yellow as her signature color...

The dog, cat, and hamster plushes child Marinette sleeps with are a reference to the pets Marinette declared she wanted after she married Adrien in her fantasy she described in the episode, "Stormy Weather".

The bedtime song featured in this fic is my own creation, though it is based on the song "Toot Sweets" from the MGM musical, "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang", and intended to be sung to the same tune as its chorus. "Toot Sweets" was originally created to be a play on the phrase "Tout de suite", so here I was, thinking I was all clever to re-imagine "Toot Sweets" as "Tout Suite", but it turns out all I did was reverse engineer it. Also a quick note to any French speakers reading this... I've never learned a lick of French, though American English has adopted many of its words and phrases... and it's those adopted phrases I've used throughout this fic, so I imagine there's a possibility that they're grammatically incorrect and/or outdated, and you have my apologies for any such occurrences. Feel free to leave a review and correct me of any errors and I'll be happy to fix it as I'm able.  
 **Edit:** Thanks to Learod for the French correction! Apparently I was using the male form, "mon petit" when it should've been "ma petite" for the female version. It has now been fixed.

"Emma" is one of the kid's names Marinette had picked out in her fantasy for her future with Adrien, again, from the episode "Stormy Weather".

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** For updates on this and other stories, behind-the-scenes, Q&A, and general fangirling, check out my tumblr: zepuka DOT tumblr DOT com


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